Jean....Plum Pudding

At a pre-Christmas Day party, Jean and her husband Paul made my evening. Jean got the conversation started, politely drawing me in with a warm "you look so familiar, dear man. How do I know you?" Then Paul spoke up, and I was delighted to hear that accent: he's from England (and told me that on a recent trip back home was accused of having an American accent. Indeed!)

Though I was sorry to see the pair leave, my mood brightened when Jean donned this coat on her way out. "Why it's like 101 Dalmatians," said a young woman standing near me. Paul countered: "You know what we call that in Great Britain, don't you. We call dalmatians 'plum pudding dogs'." Next, I chimed in: "When I was a lad, we referred to our dalmatian by a name that reduces American middle school boys into a giggling heap--the spotted dick."

The young woman backed away. Jean rolled her eyes. Perhaps I should have kept that last tidbit to myself. Then Jean smiled and told me she bought the coat a few years ago, not in England but at Round Robin on Devine Street.


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